All I have left
by 711LuvsRanger
Summary: Ranger trusts those closest to him with what is most precious to him. But should he really? WARNING: NOT MM FRIENDLY. MAJOR ANGST. GRAPHIC DARK THEMES. CHARACTER DEATH. You have been warned!


_AN: This one came to me and would not let go of my muse – I have learned that when that happens it's best to just get it out onto the page (so to speak). :)_

 _I have read so many fanfics where the Merry Men love Steph (to varying degrees) but I was reflecting that in canon, they are mostly bit-players who get knocked around a lot (shot, stabbed, blown up, knocked out…) and, mostly because of Stephanie. Add to that, apart from Tank, none of them really seem to spend much time with Steph getting to know her (again in canon)._

 _So what I couldn't stop thinking was; what if they really_ _ **didn't like her**_ _? What if they were sick of Ranger ordering them to look after her, when she's just going to get them injured or worse? What if they actually think she's a major pain in the ass? What if they think Ranger's an idiot for letting her lead him around by his d***? And what if they decided they'd had enough? …And so this was born._

 _Disclaimer_ _: I promise JE I'll put them back in her toy box when I'm finished playing!_

 _Warning_ _: NOT MM FRIENDLY. MAJOR ANGST. DARK THEMES. CHARACTER DEATH. You have been warned!_

* * *

 **Part 1.**

My dearest Ranger,

They have left me here with nothing more than a bucket for a toilet, a chain around my ankle connected to a steel pipe in the wall, and a pen and notebook. Why the pen and notebook? No idea. Maybe they thought I should write my memoirs before I die. Not sure why since I doubt they're coming back for me.

So I decided to write you a letter. Cliché? Yes, absolutely. Especially since I know there is almost zero chance you'll ever read it. But seriously, what else am I gonna do here? All I have left in my life now is this pen and paper and the truth. So here goes…

OK, important stuff first. My darling Ranger I love you. Always have, always will. And here's where it gets all embarrassing and soppy, so you can skip to the next part if you want (not like I'm gonna know). How do I love thee? Let me count the ways… ;-)

Well the first way I love you that comes to mind is 'Naked Ranger'. :-D He's my favourite actually. The amazing lover who really did ruin me for all other men. In every way possible. Mocha-latte skin over every edible inch of muscle. And a smile that can, and does, make women walk into walls.

The second is my Batman. My dark knight superhero. Always riding to my rescue. The black cars, black clothes, mysterioso. Love him too.

Third, I guess Carlos Manoso. The man who I have seen glimpses of over the years. The man who grew from a boy, who went to war, who became a soldier and a Ranger, then a businessman, who became a father, who _almost_ became my boyfriend. I only met parts of Carlos Manoso, faint hints of the real man. I wish he could be the first way I love you, so I wish I knew him better. I wish I could have told him I love _him_. I wish he could have told me he loved me too.

Fourth, bad-ass Ranger. On a takedown, or an interrogation, or whatever. Love the bad-ass. ;-)

There's all the other Rangers too. (Well, hey you can't be a superhero without all the action figures!) So there's Armani Ranger; he's hot, hot, hot! There's Corporate Ranger; the sexy businessman. Bulgari Ranger, mmmm yum. There's Ranger the leader. Ranger the quiet intellectual. Ranger the caring protector. Ranger, the man of principle…

I guess I could go on forever, but suffice to say. I love every part of you, in ways I probably never told you, but wish I had. Too late. My timing has always sucked.

OK Part 2 – just in case you did skip ahead! Why am I here? Well to explain that, I need to tell you a little story.

About a month ago, I was coming to see you, but I didn't realise you'd gone out of town to one of the other offices for a few days – Boston I think. I fobbed my way up to five and the place seemed empty for some reason. So I went to knock on your office door, when I heard some people talking in Tank's office. I guess hearing my name caught my ear, and I eavesdropped. This is what I remember of the conversation, and unfortunately it's pretty much imprinted on my brain so I remember it pretty well.

 _Lester Santos (sure of this): "Tank seriously. His head's so far up Plum's ass he can't see straight. Can't you tell him to get a crowbar and get it out? NONE of us want to waste our time on her any longer."_

 _Tank: "Suck it up Santos. I don't give a flying fuck what you want. Ranger says watch her while he's out of town, so watch her while he's out of town! Period."_

 _Bobby Brown (I think): "C'mon Tank. Lester's right. None of us want to spend time with her or near her. She doesn't work for Rangeman. If Ranger wants to fuck her, he should just take her with him when he goes."_

 _Cal (pretty sure): "Instead of assigning us to get killed or hurt."_

 _Hal (sure of this): "Or to just knock us out herself."_

 _Cal: "Oh get over it Hal. How could you seriously hand her your stun gun? Everyone knows she's a walking disaster. It's your own fucking fault."_

 _Hal: "Hey, don't fucking blame me just because you passed out on your own. At least she knocked me out."_

 _Brown: "We're straying from the point here. Point is, she's not our problem. Why are we wasting our time?"_

 _Hal: "The point I was making was that half the time we get injured protecting her. But the other half, she does it to us herself."_

 _Cal: "Plus she attracts every crazy psycho in New Jersey. Probably in the whole east coast if we hang around long enough. It's a fucking full-time job trying to protect her. It's just not OUR job. We never signed up for this."_

 _Santos: "She's a fucking nightmare. The collateral damage is gonna fucking cripple Rangeman. If she doesn't bleed it dry first, because we're not doing real business."_

 _(Unknown, couldn't pick the voice): "Yeah, it's not like anyone's gettin' paid for this."_

 _Tank: "ENOUGH! For fuck's sake. You work for Rangeman. You do what the fuck Ranger tells you to do. When Ranger's not here, you do what the fuck_ _I_ _tell you to do. And right now, I'm telling you to get the fuck out of my office, get back to your stations, work up a roster and start watching over Stephanie Plum! Is that CLEAR?!"_

 _(All mumble): "Yes sir."_

So, at this point I got out of the way quick smart and ran toward the elevator to try and look I had just arrived. They all came trooping out of Tank's office, so I waved at them and asked, "Hi guys. Is Ranger in?"

Tank follows them out and before they can talk to me, he says, "Come in to my office Steph, Ranger's out of town for a few days. But I can help, whatever you need."

Ranger, I guess I should tell you at this point that NONE of this is down to Tank. Tank's totally trustworthy. 100%. The time you rescued me from Stiva Tank told me that he was worried about me because he likes me. I believe it, and you should too. Trust Tank. But as for the rest, well… I'll let you be the judge.

My love, I know I haven't written that much so far, but I didn't tell you that they hit me over the head and drugged me a couple times, so I'm feeling a bit dizzy and it's hard to concentrate. Plus I don't have any water and my mouth feels like I've eaten sand. So I'm gonna lie down for a while and rest. I'll write more later. Love you.

…ooo…

My beloved Carlos (yeah I know you'd probably disappear for a month if I called you that to your face, but this is my last letter, I can say whatever I want!) so…

My beloved Carlos, I had the most wonderful dream about you. We were lying in the sand in summer (it's really hot here and the floor is hard and gritty). We were wearing nothing and you were all mocha-latte-delicious and rubbing sun cream all over me until I was begging you to make love to me. I wish you'd been there to make it come true.

I dunno how long I was asleep. I don't really have any way to tell, not much light is getting into this place. So it's either later the same day, or it's the next day I guess, because it's light enough for me to write again.

I'm still really thirsty my love. I saw a documentary on tv ages back where a survivor talked about how the Jews in the Nazi concentration camps used to drink their own urine because they didn't have enough water. At the time I just thought 'ewwww!' but I guess I didn't understand their desperation and determination to survive. I haven't been able to pee much, but I think I'm willing to do it if I can at least live long enough to finish this letter to you. Maybe that's a stupid goal, but I can't bring myself to hope that I can live long enough to be rescued. I know I'm not being rescued. Not this time.

OK, where was I? Oh yeah, so I'd heard this conversation. Tank stood up for me but the others made it pretty clear they couldn't stand me and didn't want to be part of your protection duty. I was pretty hurt, since I thought some of them liked me. Especially Hal, I thought Hal liked me. So it hurt to know how much they hated me and didn't want to be near me. So, I laid low for a couple of days, hiding at home. But my rent was due (as always right?) and I needed to get out chasing skips.

I figured it would be OK, since I didn't have any that were really dangerous at the time. But then, along came Joey Saldano, did you hear about him? He wasn't my skip, because he didn't actually skip bail. But I was in the office when he came in to talk to Vinnie. Vinnie had bailed him out, and there was an issue with his collateral. I just happened to be in the office when he came in to sort it out. He saw me, and I guess he formed some sort of psycho instant love-hate thing about me, because all of a sudden he's sending me threatening love-notes and telling me he's gonna skip bail just so I can come after him and we can be together. Why is it always me? Why do I attract these psychos? I must emit some sort of pheromone.

I told Vinnie, but he couldn't care less; just told me his case wasn't due for another three weeks or so, so get over it. So I went to see Tank, but he wasn't there. I didn't want to talk to anyone else at Rangeman, but Lester cornered me holding the letters I'd brought along to show Tank, so he insisted I show him. I did, pretty reluctantly you might guess, and he said that they'd take care of it. He wouldn't give me back the letters. I should tell you I did keep copies of the letters, just in case I needed to go to the police. Ask Dillon, my super, about the loose tile in the kitchen behind the cooktop, he can show you where to find them. I don't know if it'll matter at all though.

I knew it couldn't be good that I had a threat against me again when the men so clearly didn't want to protect me. But it seemed pretty low-level and I thought with the letters and all, it would be pretty easy to take care of it. I don't know what Lester did, if anything, he wouldn't tell me. I stopped getting the notes, so I figured either Lester had done something or Joey had lost interest. Either way, the threat seemed to be over. I was relieved. And then a couple days later, you came home and I relaxed, since I figured you'd pull the guys off protection detail and everything would be sweet.

A week later again, and I'm walking out of the Bonds Office. I'd had to park out back in the alley, because there was nothing out front. You know the alley all too well, don't you my sexy man? Please always remember me in that alley…

Well, I felt this sharp pain in my arm, like a bee sting – found out later it was a tranquiliser dart. I'm cuffed and shackled to a chair in a basement with blackout over the window and nobody around. I was pretty woozy from the tranq and my head was spinning. But I heard someone come in and they forced my head up to look them in the face. It was Lester. He said, "Guess the Merry Men aren't so merry, huh princess?" Then he went on to tell me they all hated being called Merry Men and that you were 'no fucking Robin Hood' and I 'sure as fuck was no Maid Marion'. So I could forget the damsel in distress routine and they could get back to the jobs they were being paid to do. He shoved something filthy in my mouth and put a bag over my head and then I felt something hit my head, maybe a gun butt. So I was out, and when I came to, he'd left.

Dunno how much later, but I think it had to be a while. I was already pretty thirsty and I had peed my pants because I just couldn't hold it any longer. He came back with two others. They made some rude remarks about me pissing my pants and (I think it was Cal) said "She's gonna do worse than that before it's over." Anyway, they unshackled me from the chair. I tried to struggle but it was pretty hopeless against three of them. They chained my legs back together and left me cuffed with my hands behind my back, and put me into this crate curled up foetal on my side.

Before they put the lid on, they told me that you would never find me, nobody would ever find me where I was going. They said it would just be another stalker of mine. They had the letters to prove it and they were gonna plant them somewhere judicious. And Vinnie would back up the theory since he knew about the threat from Saldano. So maybe it was Saldano, maybe it was just another random crazy, and they'd never find Saldano either. Whatever, they said it would just be another Stephanie Plum stalker and kidnapper who just did the job right this time. But nobody would find the body. And all the Merry Men would rejoice because Ranger would forget about me quickly when a better-looking piece of ass came along. Probably someone easier who didn't two-time him with a cop.

Then they all laughed and sprayed some sort of gas under the hood and I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the crate, on a plane. I could hear the drone of the engines and I couldn't move. Oh god Ranger, I have never been so scared in my entire life. I knew I was being sent away to my death. And ever since Stiva, I haven't been good in tight, confined spaces. Actually I am a LOT less than good. :-/

Babe. Ranger I'll never hear you call me Babe again. I loved hearing you call me Babe. It's the only nickname I've ever had that I liked. I miss that. Sorry my love, my head is spinning again, and my thoughts are getting fuzzy. I'll try and get back on track.

So the plane trip went on like forever. I have no frame of reference for how long, so I really can't say. It was definitely hours. Could have been longer. I was in and out. When I came to again, the crate (and me) were in a truck, and I could hear people talking, not in English. Something really foreign, maybe Arabic? Not sure. The truck ride went on a long time and there was some really rough terrain, I was getting jolted around and banging every part of me against that fucking crate. I couldn't feel my arms anymore they were completely numb and my legs were shooting pains up my shins but I couldn't feel my feet. God knows how long I was cramped up in that crate, it felt like days, maybe it was.

Eventually, the truck stopped and they carried me into this place, down some stairs and into this room. They opened the crate and pulled me out. They uncuffed my arms and unshackled my legs, but then chained something around my ankle. They left the bag on my head and I couldn't move because I literally had no feeling in my hands or arms. They said some stuff, really no idea what, and left, and I heard a bolt being shut and I think a padlock.

Carlos, baby I'm sorry but I'm so dizzy and weak I'm gonna pass out again. I promise I'll come back again and finish my story. Luv you.

…ooo…

Can you keep a secret Batman? I caved in and drank the little bit of pee in the bucket. I know, yuk right, it tasted terrible. But I was SO parched my love, I knew I wouldn't be able to finish this if I couldn't have something. So I did it. I know it's stupid since it would mean you'll never find this letter, but I really hope you never see my body you know? I think this is gonna be a pretty gruesome way to die. Sorry, Batman.

So I woke up again (after they left me here I mean) with pain shooting through every part of my body from the way I'd been cramped up for so long. It hurt like shit but eventually I was able to sit up and pull the bag off my head. And I saw I was in some kind of concrete bunker, I think sort of half underground, since some light is filtering in from some cracks near the ceiling but sound seems muffled. Maybe there's just nothing around. Like I said at the beginning, there's this old metal bucket, I assume for a toilet, and I'm chained to this pipe.

And there's a shelf on the wall with a pen and a notebook. What's that all about? I mean seriously, why leave me with a notebook? But I am grateful they did, since it means I get to write this to you.

So that's my story my love. I guess I pissed off the guys at Rangeman too many times for too long. I know it's my fault. I should've got more training, or maybe I should've just given up the bounty hunting and left it to the professionals like everyone told me to all along.

Everyone except you. You supported me, helped me, protected me, loved me. PLEASE don't blame yourself my darling Carlos. It was never your fault. It was all me. Well and those assholes at Rangeman. I just wish I could warn you to watch your back. Only trust Tank Ranger. And maybe Ella – I loved Ella. Would you tell her I loved her, for me please? Dunno who in the others you can trust. But definitely NOT Lester or Cal.

I'm gonna sign off now Ranger, I'm getting really weak and I don't think I can write much longer. I want to put a note on the front of the notebook so if someone finds it they might send it to you.

I love you more than anything in the whole world. I'll love you until the end of time. And I'll be waiting for you. Live a long and happy life and never doubt you are a wonderful, special, amazing man who deserves every happiness and joy.

Love forever, Stephanie, your Babe.

* * *

 **Part 2.**

"Yo, Manoso."

"Manoso, it's General Hohn."

"What can I do for you sir?"

"Manoso, I need you and Sherman in Washington ASAP."

"Sir, neither Tank nor I are Army any longer. Why do we need to come to Washington?"

"Manoso, all I can tell you is it's of utmost importance that you get here stat. And bring Sherman with you, no one else, just Sherman. I can't stress how important that is. Ranger… I assure you, you are not being recalled for a mission, and it's not about anything from your past in the Rangers. But you need to get here. Now. I'll be waiting to brief you fully the minute you arrive, anytime night or day."

"Very well sir, we're on our way. I'll have the Rangeman jet fuelled and fly out of Newark by 1600."

"Ranger… It's imperative that this is kept just to you and Sherman. Don't share anything with anyone else. Just tell them you've been called to Washington and it's related to a past op or something. This is need to know."

"Of course sir. No problem."

"Hurry Ranger."

…ooo…

Ranger and Tank were met at the private jet terminal at Washington Dulles Airport by a military escort. The grim-faced men greeted them politely and drove them in silence to the Army HQ at Greenleaf Point.

They were ushered into General Hohn's office within an hour of landing. He stood to greet them and dismissed the escorts.

"So we're here General. What's this about?"

"Please sit gentlemen. Coffee?"

"No thank you sir. But can you please tell me what the _fuck_ this is about… sir?"

"Ranger, Tank, I know this was inconvenient. And I don't mean to test your patience. But this matter is very… delicate. And I'm struggling to deal with it. So please, bear with me. I will explain everything."

They sat, Tank curious, Ranger frustrated.

"Ranger, can I first please ask, are you acquainted with a woman named Stephanie Plum?"

Ranger was back on his feet instantly. "WHERE IS SHE? What's happening? Did someone take her? One of my enemies from my past? TELL ME!"

"Soldier SIT DOWN!" the general barked. Reluctantly, Ranger sat. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry but this is not a simple matter. But like I told you on the phone Ranger, this is not about your Army past. I know you are impatient, but I have to proceed carefully. Please…" the general sighed.

"Ranger, Tank, I'm going to tell you what I know. About two weeks ago, our embassy in Bamako in Mali was contacted by the Mali Army. Apparently, a patrol in a remote northern region had found a small, isolated hut with a… distinctive smell. There was a semi-underground room that had been locked and bolted from the outside. When they broke in they found a woman's body chained to a pipe in the wall. She appeared to have died there, probably dehydration. She appeared to be Caucasian. No identification. But beside her they found a small notebook and pen. This was wrapped around the notebook."

He handed Ranger a filthy piece of paper torn from a notebook. Ranger lifted it to read,

 _If anyone ever finds this, my name is Stephanie Michelle Plum, and I live in Trenton, New Jersey in the United States. Please give this notebook to the love of my life, Ricardo Carlos Manoso, known as Ranger. He also lives in Trenton. He runs a security company called Rangeman LLC and it has offices in Trenton, Boston, Miami and Atlanta. I know he'll probably never read this, but if anyone ever finds this, please tell I loved him. I will love him forever._

Ranger sat frozen, reading the note over and over. He couldn't speak or move, and sat motionless in numb disbelief. Tank reached over and gently tried to pull the note out of Ranger's hands to read it himself. Ranger reflexively held it tighter for a moment, but then released his grip to Tank. He heard Tank's gasp at reading the words, and it drew him out of his numb stupor to look up at the general.

"Where's the notebook?" he croaked hoarsely.

The general pulled the notebook out of the folder on his desk, it was in a plastic bag. He hesitated. "Ranger, before I give you this, you need to know… There's more son. There's information in this notebook about what happened to her. It's not pretty reading. It's going to come as a severe blow to you. It's also why I insisted you bring Tank and tell nobody else. It's… well, I'll let you read it. Tank, it's a personal letter to Ranger. Please let him read it. He can then decide if he wants you to read it too, or just tell you what you need to know."

The general still hesitated before handing the plastic pouch to Ranger. "I should also tell you, they're sending the body back. It will arrive tomorrow. I'd like you to wait for it. We'll need you to identify her, if possible. If she's… recognisable. Then we can release her to you, or more likely her family."

The general stood and moved to the door. "I'm going to get my assistant to get us some coffee and water and something to eat. I'll be back in 30. I…I'm very sorry son."

Ranger reached in and pulled out the notebook. A tear escaped his eye as he opened it to read, ' _My dearest Ranger…'_

…ooo…

Ranger sat, feeling the icy rage building stronger and stronger beneath the crushing grief and numb disbelief. He read the letter twice, then a third time, and his fists clenched and threatened to crush the notebook, before he caught himself and smoothed out the precious document.

Slowly the numbness began to dissipate as one of the world's deadliest men began to plan the brutal justice that was the only thing left he could give the only woman he had ever loved.

There would be blood. Rivers of blood.

He did not know what would be left of Rangeman when he was done. He did not much care.

They would pay. They would pay in ways they never knew in their worst nightmares.

Wordlessly, he handed the notebook to Tank. Tank read the words, ' _My dearest Ranger…'_

Five minutes later, after reading the letter through twice, Tank handed it back to Ranger. Ranger met Tank's tear-streaked eyes with his own. Tank said, "They will pay. They will pay in pain. My brother, I swear to you, I had no idea. On my life. But they will pay. As soon as we're out of here, they will know the price."

Ranger just nodded. He waited for the general to return. But it didn't matter what the general said, or did anymore. Ranger and Tank knew that this had only one outcome.

There would be blood. They would pay in blood. And pain.

She deserved no less. His love. His life. She died in pain.

They would pay.

* * *

 _AN: Sorry guys, if you made it through that. I cried writing it. Sometimes my muse… well, I just don't know what goes on with her. Go and read something happy now! To make up for it. :-/_


End file.
